Sacred
by Wildly Obsessed
Summary: 3 up. He's dead and she's drowning in memories. There's blood on her hands and regret in her mind, and all the words she left unsaid can do nothing but taunt her in the days where she truly is all alone because she killed the one man who truly cared.
1. Hate Me

****

**-S A C R E D-**

**_Hate Me_**

I did it for you, you know. Of course, you don't know. You can't know. Stupidly shortsighted and impossibly dimwitted fool that you can be sometimes, you really had no idea. I didn't do it just to hurt you. I can't say that the hurting part was in any kind of con list in my mind, oh all right it gave me a little bit of amusement, but I didn't do it to hurt you. And that amusement I just mentioned? That lasted from the second you told to me you left her to the second your eyes flooded over after I said my bit. Even in that tiny frame of time I felt a discomfort in my stomach, just a hint of sorrow that most people know as guilt. It wasn't as fun for me as you seem to want to begrudge. What was I supposed to do, you filthy son of a dirty little girl molesting bastard? Was I supposed to tell you that I was glad you left her because I hated her for taking you away? Was I supposed to laugh with relief and start trying to woo you? For God's sake Sebastian, you know who I am and if you actually expected anything like that, even for one moment, then your brain is severely addled.

Why did you look at me like that? Like I had just sliced through your throat? I've called you way worse things then what I called you that night. You weren't supposed to well up. You haven't done that in two years to the best of my knowledge, and my knowledge is very detailed. You're not a little boy, you're not the sensitive type, and you're sure as hell not the type to even feel pain over anything anyone could say. So why did you look so hurt? Damn you, you weren't supposed to run straight back to her, you weren't supposed to stomp out of my life. I thought you'd be pissed for maybe a day or so. I thought you'd reluctantly speak to me again before I could really miss your presence.

You knew I'd be angry. And you should know better than anyone how I get when I'm angry. You shouldn't have made me angry. There are consequences. Don't you know that even you aren't an exception to this rule?

You were supposed to get a black eye. Ronald was supposed to give you a pretty blue mark around your pretty face and send you into a blind anger back to my door. I just wanted to make you see what a bad boy you had been. You would have come back to me and yelled and gestured and threatened. I would pretend that you weren't being completely predictable and then you'd settle down and we'd go back to the way things were. That was what was supposed to happen. A black eye for being so silly as to change your mind and to actually choose a virginal freak over your very own Kathryn. A tiny punishment, you know. I didn't want to make you too upset, just upset enough to stride back into my room in those borderline metro sexual shoes of yours. I wasn't being difficult. You were the one who had to change our game and ruin our bet.

It wasn't my fault.

You know that, don't you? It wasn't my fault. It was yours. Yours, yours, yours. And if there was anyone else who can have a share of the blame, it's Annette. But not me. She was the one who had to be a duck footed moron and almost get run over. I wasn't anywhere near you. And Ronald wouldn't have been able to give you more than a black eye. It was her fault. So why does she get to have all the pity and ride around in the car I know you wanted me to have with that sad little smile on her face like oh you're in a better place and she can just feel you watching over her. Watch over me, damnit. Even in death you seem to favour her.

I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes tightly. Shit. I told myself I wouldn't think of that word.

Too late.

At the word 'death' my brain instantly runs through images that I would rather not think of. You're going to cost me thousands in therapy to repress you, I hope you're happy.

It doesn't work. I can't block out the tingling feeling of sadness. I tried to breathe, to keep stony. It fails. I can't even stand up. My breath came out in a gasp and I needed to gulp oxygen in quickly as I could already feel lightness flit through my mind.

I couldn't keep my composure and had to lean forward for support. Unfortunately for me that what was in front of me was the cause of my little loss of thought. My fingers brushed and then crashed into the hard, cold, and rather snobbish wooden structure I inadvertently fell into. I had been standing here and staring for the last half hour and had so far managed to be far enough away not to see or touch anything. But I can feel it now. The coldness. Much worse than that, I can see it now.

It. Do you hear me, Sebastian? You've been demoted to 'it' status.

Your face lies just inches below mine. I didn't want to see, damn it. I didn't want to see it. My face, so expressionless up to this point, instinctively hardens to marble until my very last defense mechanism, my last layer of mask and smoke is smashed to shambles as my eyes bore into every detail. I can't turn away and suddenly my face crumples, as abrupt as a heart attack.

Fuck you. Fuck you! Disgust curls itself upon my lips. Disgust at myself for allowing you to affect me. For allowing anyone to affect me. Disgust at what I couldn't tear my eyes away from. Disgust at what had become of you.

If I don't straighten up soon I just may cry. That's right, tears. For you. For you I may have to break a two year record. And before that time two years ago, it would have been a 10 year record. Oh wait. That's right. You already made me break my record. I can't believe it was only a few days ago.

Damn you. I could feel it starting. The salty beacons of weakness, of cowardice and foolishness. Look what you've reduced me to. I'm acting just like all the rest. Damn you.

I feel cold. I usually feel cold, but this time it isn't drug induced and it isn't the result of boredom or apathy. It's emptiness. You're laughing at me, aren't you? Shut up. I usually feel empty too, you're right. But this time it's as though I've lost half of my soul. What soul? I can hear you ask that. Stupid sarcastic ass hole. You wouldn't be able to appreciate a moment of respect if it took the form of a cab and ran you down for being a fucking martyr for the first time in your whole life. I'm trying to pay my respects and I can't do it. I don't respect what you've done, I don't respect how you got here. You were a fool. You, the one I actually gave credit to having a bit of sense, you turned out to be just like any other idiot hormonal boy. You didn't just ruin my life by killing my reputation, you didn't just ruin my life by taking away the one person I could identify with, you had to ruin the image of the one person I held in any type of regard while you were at it. Rest in peace? I hope you burn in the fiery pits of hell, suffering in every inch of your pathetic body while you slowly go insane for all of eternity.

I'm trying to suppress the tears but it only makes it worse. Before my self control can return to me, my hand that isn't clenched around your casket reaches out to stroke your face. It's cold, but my hand is too. Your hair is limp now. None of your product is in it now. They tried to make you look better. It's amusing- they put blush on you. You, who prided yourself on your paleness, you're wearing blush. What's wrong with those people? They tried to make a dead person look less dead. News flash, no one seeing you would be exactly surprised to find you dead. Oh look, let's go to a bloody funeral and oh my, why is there a dead guy?

The wood is fugly. Your dad doesn't know you and my mother never cared about you. It's too expensive. By that I mean it makes you look like a pompous ass wipe prefect who died with their pocket protectors and cardigan securely around them. I'm not just trying to find something to criticize. It really is a piece of crap that doesn't suit you at all.

Annette wanted to have you cremated. She said it was what you would have wanted. I almost lost it and reared out my nails and tore out her lungs right there. She batted her eyes in that brave little way of hers and said that you would want to be cremated and spread to the winds as she drove about in your car. Her car now. You weren't married and yet she got your most prized possession. Seriously, your dad couldn't stop diddling the pastor's daughter for long enough to realize the most expensive thing you owned was getting taken away by some chick you barely knew?

Cremation. Sure, Annette. I flatly refused, naturally. She glared at me so ferociously I would be forced to give her props if it wasn't Annette I was speaking of. I blinked. She took that as an insult and launched into a rant about how she knew you best and how I had no right to even be in the presence of the making of such plans. I couldn't help but point out that you despised fire and had a nice little plot of land that you had personally staked out at age seven- the age you were told you were officially accountable for your actions and therefore the age that made you officially eligible for a place in hell if you were a bad boy. You figured that since an eternal undead existence in flames was inevitable, you wouldn't want your earthly body to be chucked in flames too. I remember how your first choice was a tomb, something akin to the pharaoh burial practices. And how when that proved futile you wanted to be frozen and brought back. This plot was the only place on earth you would agree to after your deep freeze hope was crushed.

Naturally, Annette spluttered and refused to believe me. She knew you best, of course. You should have seen how amazingly angry she was when I won and you were passed over for cremation. She really thought her status as girlfriend of the summer would overrule my long standing position as your right hand... companion? Friend? Sister? I hate labels.

My eyes traveled across your features. Most would say you looked peaceful. I would say you looked dead. I will give you some points for managing to look bored and haughty at your own funeral. It would make me smirk if I wasn't too busy trying not to slam down the ugly wood down upon your fucking body. You rarely do change that expression, even now. That was one thing they couldn't change. They could put blush on your cheeks and surround you with puke worthy wood but they couldn't contort your expression. A blessing, considering Annette did win the battle for choosing your outfit. She thought it made you look 'spiffy'. Her words, my friend. She thought you always looked way too serious in life and she, alone of all people, had seen the real you- the you with a sweet laugh and an easy sense of humour. So she insisted on casual. The official funeral and you had to be stuffed into a t-shirt and faded jeans. I can't remember the last time you suffered yourself to wear a ratty faded pair of jeans. Oh wait, that's right, you never did.

You had to choose a woman who really had no idea who you were. You had to die for that self righteous bitch who knew nothing at all.

I'll have you know that I wanted you looking the way you would want to look in your last public appearance ever. You were going to be buried under a couple layers of dirt and grass and rock- you would not want to be stuck in eternity wearing anything less then your designer clothes, your best and most attractive suit. It wasn't bad enough that they put make up on you and housed you in the worst vessel possible, it wasn't bad enough that they had to say all that crap in your eulogy that would have made you scowl in reality, they had to make you look shabby too. But they couldn't change your expression. And it's that expression that's making me break inside. I was managing to keep stoic until that damn expression.

My fingers are touching you. No. It's not you. You're long gone. This is some shell that you left behind. But it is you. It's your hair, your soft skin, your cheekbones, your lips. It's your Adam's apple, your chest, your freakishly girly eyelashes. You.

"We have to put him under now, miss."

"No."

"Miss-"

"I said no." I calmly stated. "Ten minutes."

"Miss, you said that twenty minutes ago. I know this is a difficult time-"

"Shut up and walk away and come back in ten minutes." I said. Feeling the reluctance, I finally looked back at the mousy attendant and gave my very best brave-and-suffering smile. "I'm sorry. But he was my brother."

A nod, a pat on the shoulder, and then I'm rid of the vermin.

My attention is back to the casket.

It wasn't my fault.

You were such a fool. You deserved to die. But you didn't have the right to die like that, to die like a gallant hero, I didn't deserve to have my last memory of you to have been what it was.

You probably hated me when you died. True hatred, not feigned hatred hiding real amusement. I did it for you. You wanted her. I just made the choice easier. I just made your guilt lessen. I did it for you.

I made you hate me. In my rarer moments of selflessness, I made you hate me so you could be happy. I knew you wouldn't be with her long, but at least you could come back to me and admit I was right after you got to see that for yourself instead of wondering the rest of senior year and secretly pining for her. I wouldn't have you turn soft and loving. She wouldn't be right for you and you'd see that and come back to me, hardened and lovely.

That's what was supposed to happen.

You were supposed to realize things. See through me like I've been able to see through you. Read me. You never did realize that I needed you, did you? I was too good of an actress. But I did. I didn't need anyone but I needed you. You were supposed to go on being with me, wanting no one more then you wanted me, until I was ready to let you see that I didn't think you were just a toy to me. But then, I thought you already knew that.

You were supposed to be with me and sleep with me and give me the best sex I ever had and vice versa.

Ten years down the line, after being with every other woman and man in the planet, we were supposed to finally settle down and stop playing mind games so viscously and allow ourselves a smidgen of happiness.

I dream, I wish… I've thought ahead. Like all little girls, I thought of my wedding day. We were to be married in a church. I thought it ironic. I was to be in traditional white and you in a suit. And maybe I wouldn't have let you have me until our wedding night. I would have thought it perfectly hilarious.

You were to be my groom. In each and all of my thoughts and wishes and dreams, you were always the man to my wife. I never had one moment of doubt. For all our warped ways of showing it, for all our jibes and cruelty, you were the love of my life. And I always knew we would make it official one day, when we outgrew the need to deny it and tease and pretend.

It wasn't my fault.

I had plans. I had desires.

They're lowering your casket in a minute. I just have time to run my hand over you one last time. I've long since memorized the feel of you. My hands know your face, your body, my eyes can see you when you're not there, my nose can sense you when you're in the room. And I lean down and give a little chaste kiss on your cheek, and then a small one on your lips, your cold, lifeless lips that I will never be able to feel. The lips that will never open up and say something witty and harsh and deceitfully honest. The lips that will never pout and bitch and yell and snarl and threaten. The lips that will never crush against mine with a passion unparalled. The lips that will never say the words that meant so much to everyone else and so little to us- I love you, Kathryn.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't my fault. "I'm sorry." It's a whisper, but it's enough.

My hands feel their way to the edge of the casket. The eyes of the world will never see his face again, and there will pass the most beautiful of humans.

I never did have much store in religion but if I ever did believe in God, I fucking hate him now. No God would do this, would let this happen. And devil, the devil loved him. There is no God. But for his sake I suddenly wish that there were, just so he could have a safe afterlife.

Annette said he'd be her angel for the rest of her life. She's a twit, but I want him near me too, in any form. I'm not selfish enough to wish it, though. He's better off away from this twisted painful place.

It's not my fault.

Then why the hell does it hurt so much?

The wood falls heavily down and I have to lean down against it once more. My forehead presses against the casket and I brush my lips against it. My palms spread themselves against this prison of his and they follow the casket as it lowers. In effect, I am literally driving him into the ground, literally putting him to the grave. It is my right to do so, and fitting in a way.

The dirt is shoveled over him. I want to scream out for them to stop defiling him.

Covered. He is covered. I should be working on putting him out of my mind, but I can't. I won't. I won't forget him. I refuse.

"Good bye, Sebastian." And somewhere, deep in the trenches of my chest, I hear his resonating drawl laugh that it will never, ever be good bye.

I pick myself up, fix my make up, rearrange my stylish mourning clothes. I adjust my face, straighten up my features so that the unreadable indifference is back on the surface. My eyes block up and I make my way back to my car.

I was the last one. I outstayed them all. Even Annette. I stayed sitting, pretending to be writing something in a notebook while they all went up to his casket. I watched subtly and waited until the losers sobbed their way away. I was the last one for him. When there's no one else left in the world that cares, that stays, that thinks of him, I'll be there. Because the little girl is still here and she still waits for the day she gets to stand beside him in her white dress and say I do forever. That day will come someday, Sebastian. It will.

It wasn't my fault. But the refrain is fading from my thoughts. The desperation and emotion are successfully being repressed. Appearances are everything.

You can still hear me, can't you, Sebastian?

That journal wasn't all you thought of me, was it? There were better thoughts, better entries, but Annette just didn't publish it all, correct?

I throw away the thoughts. How sad it is that you are forever gone and I can't even be sure that what we had was actually more then a game. I lied and you lied so many times I don't know how you really felt.

They made a mockery of who you were. Only I know how much of a disgrace this whole day was to you. But everyone hates me now. Where I once was revered and loved I am now shunned and despised. I like it better this way. It was only you I wanted to fool. And I managed that, even to your dying breath.

Before I enter my car, I look back at your newly dug grave and at the plot next to it. I can't help but smile slightly. That spot is reserved for me. It has been for years. You suggested it as a joke and laughed when I took you up on it, but I know that if I hadn't, you would have insisted. When someone kills me like I've killed you _(it wasn't my fault),_ I'll join you. And we really will be together forever. I've made a note to be buried in a beautiful white gown. The bride to your groom.

Don't you love this me? This me who is so superfluously overly sentimental and so deep in denial that I can barely do anything these days?

They'll likely shove me in rehab soon.

They'll likely try to destroy me further. But I can't be destroyed. Only you can destroy me. And you have. At once I am irreparably ruined and granted immortal strength with your departure. You both weakened and solidified who I am. Aren't you proud?

I've been thinking of starting my own journal. I mocked you for yours, but if I had one you would have been just as desperate to read mine as I was to read yours. Maybe I'll have my own version of our lives. It's quite different from your spin, I'm sure.

You will live on.

Good bye Sebastian. Stay with me. Don't leave me like you did before. Stay.

It wasn't my fault.

Forgive me?

Good bye Sebastian.

_Hate me today  
Hate me tomorrow  
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you _

Hate me in ways  
Hard to swallow  
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave  
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made

_**Hate me...**  
_

* * *

AN: Seriously, freakishly obsessed with CI and with K/S. I have a Sebastian one in the works and am thinking of so many ideas, I'm going to bomb bio for this, haha. At least I'll be happy. CI isn't mine. And neither is Ryan of the pretty lips. This story popped into my head as I listened to the song above, Hate Me by Blue October. Not really a song fic, but I thought the lyrics fitted with Kathryn, even though the song goes on to talk of different things. I'm considering making this into a chapter fic, through Kathryn's journal. The immiediate future and Kathryn and Sebastian's long and off beat past melded into one. Possibly. It's good to be in the CI community :) 


	2. Delete the Dream

AN: Because I'm strange like that, I've decided to make this a chapter fic. It'll mainly be flashbacks and recounts of their past, like this one.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Delete the Dream**

Dear Diary…

I'm a typically angst ridden and horribly melodramatic teenager. My life is so awful! My mother just got remarried to this dirty jerk that's got this insufferable son. A stepbrother- that's right I have a stupid stepbrother. Oh, who am I kidding diary? He's amazing and sexy and every time I see him I just, I get these thoughts that I know are wrong. Oh I met him and I just knew he was the one for me, even if it is technically wrong. I met a boy and I know he'll break my heart, but I think I love him already.

Oh, please. Sebastian, I hope that satisfied your curiosity, you annoying ass. I know you're reading this right now. As if I'd start anything with the lines 'dear diary'.

You're probably thinking this a fake and you'll be on your merry way searching for my real diary. Newsflash brain trust, I don't have one. I don't waste my time jeopardizing everything I have by keeping my little secrets in a book that's easily lost or stolen. Especially when I live with someone like you. Besides, I'm not a weak softie of a queer like you.

Hope this entry was worth the painful digging you took part in. Hope it was worth the moral battle you waged. That was sarcasm, by the way. I've only seen you on and off maybe eight times in my life up until last month but I already know you and your type. Yes, I am stereotyping you. Aren't you going to get all huffy and pout those pretty boy lips of yours? Go die, dickwad.

-your sweetest sister, Kathryn

xxx

_Sebastian, you are the master of the universe. Just repeat that to yourself and one day it will come true. You are a confident, good looking, intelligent human being and you will find someone who appreciates and loves you one day. It's not your fault that you're alone. It's not your fault that your sister is a bitch who happens to enjoy being a sex tease._

_Yeah, Kathryn, I read your entry. I hope my bit amused you as much as yours amused me. Funny how you won't waste a single moment writing an account of the best memories of your life but you will waste time constructing an elaborate decoy to piss me off. You really do care, don't you sis?_

_Of course, I do happen to have a real journal as you know. And as you will quickly learn, I pretty much shower with it so you won't ever get to taste more then I let you taste. If you're a good girl, I'll let you see some of it. But remember, every single word you read that looks true was a word I deliberately laid out intending for you to read. Because I really am the master of the known universe._

_We're going to be bosom buddies, aren't we?_

_-Sebbie. As you've so humorously taken to calling me. I'm sure you'll like my calling you Kitty Kat just as warming to your soul. I hope you choke on your vomit, my sad chunky girl._

xxx

Diary, he called me chunky. He doesn't think I'm pretty! What am I going to do? I'm so fat. He hates me. There's no reason to go on living.

Chunky. I'm not going to let that one go. Way to promote my physical and mental degradation, Sebbie. You know, a young teenage girl has a fragile psyche and the opinion and insult of every person in their life is taken and filed away in their minds to haunt them. You're going to lead to my suicide, how will you feel then?

Why don't we just talk in person, you freak?

-Kitty Kat.

xxx

_Our family is perfect and wholesome and regal. If we bickered in public or even in hearing range of the servants, our parents would disinherit us._

_And I kind of like this correspondence. It's like having a pen pal you see often._

_-S_

xxx

My, you're getting lazy. 'S'? And you gave me three whole sentences. I'm rather offended. And have I mentioned that you're a fag?

You need to take your time coming up with witty responses, don't you? That's why you won't risk talking to me- your brain doesn't work fast enough to have a complete conversation with me. Poor brother, you think I'll make fun of you. It isn't your fault you're a pathetically less fortunate human being. I'm perfect enough for both of us.

-Kathryn. By the way, why don't we email?

xxx

_Email is for geeks and pedophiles._

_Besides, wasting paper is a pastime I enjoy._

_-S_

xxx

What are you doing? What could _possibly_ be distracting you _so_ much that you can't spare a few more words for me? It hurts me. I look forward to your entries, you know. David asked me out today. I told him that he'd need my big brother's permission first. What's that? No, I'm not doing this to be annoying. I value your opinion. You've got to shelter and protect a naïve innocent like me, don't you agree?

-Kathryn

xxx

_No wonder the dolt was so shifty with me today. Don't worry, hon. I told him you were a lying whore and that he was better off without you unless he wanted syphilis. Just looking out for you, of course._

_And you need protecting like the sun needs heat._

_In answer to your hurt feelings, all I can say is, suck me. I don't have enough time to write in two separate journals around my actual life. My life doesn't revolve around you, unfortunately._

_-S_

xxx

Thank you. David was really repulsive. You didn't think I'd send you over a guy I actually wanted to date, did you?

And dearest, I'd love to.

-Kathryn

xxx

_Whore._

_-S._

xxx

Are you saying no?

-Kathryn

xxx

_My room. 12. Tonight._

_-S_

xxx

You're going to have to speak to me in person more and actually sacrifice more than four syllables, I'm afraid.

I have class, you know.

-Kathryn

xxx

_Kitty Kat, you know I like you._

_You just repulse me when I have to hear your voice._

_No offence._

_-S_

xxx

Bastard. You speak in monotone and switch between either an expression of transparently fake haughty boredom and an off putting impish grin. I'm the better looking of us two and you know it.

-Kathryn

xxx

_Your writing is getting messier._

_-S_

xxx

Don't be so gay.

This tires me.

I'm not playing any more.

If you want to grow up, stop being so damn polite when you see me around the house or at school. I don't care what you say about our parents. It's bothering me. I just want to talk.

This is the last entry. Kathryn doesn't do diaries.

-Kathryn

xxx

_You need to stop from referring to yourself in the third person. It makes you seem psycho. Oops. I didn't mean to call attention to your little problem._

_Lazy ass._

_Have it your way. We just won't talk any more._

_-Sebastian_

xxx

I'm touched. You took the time to add in the extra eight letters in your name. It saddens me that you don't want to work at constructing a strong sibling bond with me, Sebbie. Oh diary, I just want a big happy family. Why doesn't he want to be my family, too? I must stew over this while I have a sweaty pillow fight with my girlfriends this weekend. I'm having a slumber party.

-Kathryn

xxx

_Were you just being droll or actually planning to have said slumber party? I am your brother after all. I have host responsibilities. I knew you'd cave, by the way. Better these entries than nothing. You just can't get enough of me, can you?_

_-Sebastian_

xxx

I'll invite you in to the sweaty pillow fight if you actually speak to me and quit this foolishness. I want to prove that you can't think on your feet.

-Kathryn

xxx

_You're wrong and I'd have easily been able to get myself in anyways, but since I have pity on your lusty soul, I'll agree. But you owe me some favours._

_-Seb_

xxx

I owe you nothing. Don't make the mistake of thinking you can outcon me. I'm brighter, faster, and far more devious than you give me credit for. This is the last entry. I'm not reading any more. And if you want to get coyly invited in tonight, you'd better play nicely and do just as your sister asks.

-Kathryn

xxx

_Dear Diary,_

_Note to self: Be nicer to Kathryn more often._

_Dearest sister, you have very attractive and ridiculously easy friends._

_-Sebastian_

xxx

Thanks for being a good boy. I knew you'd like them. They all think you're to die for. And none of them seem to realize that all of them fucked you last night. Huh. I need smarter friends.

-Kitty Kat

xxx

_You have me. You don't need anyone else._

_And we talk. This writing thing is stupid._

_-Sebastian_

xxx

True. Putting things in writing is like putting up a target to be harassed and blackmailed in the future. Can't risk that, can we? I suggest we burn these diaries.

-Kitty

xxx

_You're asking for me to call you Pussy, aren't you? I'm sure you've got a very nice one. May I see it sometime?_

_Burning is a bit of overkill, don't you think?_

_-Seb_

xxx

If you don't want to burn it, give it to me. I'll get rid of both of them.

And like I said, I have class. You'll have to do a bit more wooing before I'll spread my legs.

-Kathryn

xxx

_What, you didn't like the nickname? And you've spread your legs for a lot less. All right, burn away. But it's like burning away the evidence of the beginning of our relationship. Call me sentimental, but I think these entries are worth remembering. :)_

_-Sebastian_

xxx

I won't spread them for you, not after you're being such a dickhead. And all these entries will show to us in the future is that we were stupid enough to put things in writing. We're fucked up. You're an ass. I'm a slut. We get it. I'm going to burn them as soon as you reply.

-Kathryn

xxx

_Fine._

_-Sebastian_

xxx

So this is me. And in case this is me looking back on this years later and going what the fuck? Yeah, I thought they were worth keeping too. So that's why it's here in this safety deposit box across the state. He won't be able to laugh at me. And I won't have to throw out the only thing I have of his that reflects his thoughts… the only thing I can keep to prove to myself how he feels. In case you forgot, Kathryn, flip to page two-seven-seven. I win, Sebastian. I always do.

-Kathryn

xxx

_This will go down in flames because you don't care and I do. I can't ever do anything or say anything because you will burn me if I do. And it'll kill me inside if I never say it. So I'll put it down, because you will never know._

_It was February 7th, 1997 at precisely 2:07:07 AM that we first met, that we first talked, that I first realized I would fall in love with you someday in the not too distant future. And it was 2 months later that I first realized I could never have you because we were officially related. It was the same moment I realized the not too distant future had become the present. Last week._

_Sebbie loves Kitty Kat._

* * *

**Are we forgetting, all of the truths that tell a lie?**  
Maybe we have, maybe we won't, I cannot decide  
Now we have found our truth but it's all been set aside  
I take from one man, You take the lies


	3. Drown

**-D R O W N-**

I vaguely wonder if I'm going to wither away.

It seems as though I have stopped caring what the imbeciles around me think of the person I am, the person I appear to be.

They know about my dirty secrets now. There is nothing left to salvage. They know about my lies and I'm sure any sincerity on my part would be disregarded, not that I can actually show such a thing.

It isn't the fact that they know the truth. It isn't the looks I get when I walk down the hall or the not so subtle comments I conveniently am made to overhear. These people are weak minded and sheep like. They wanted to follow me. And if I were inclined to have them follow me again, it would be done. Fuckheads think they know everything but they don't. I could own my little pawns again if I wanted to.

But that is the issue at hand now that has mummy worrying and Tuttle tutting.

I don't seem to care.

I'm coasting.

Drifting along in habits and routine, completely oblivious.

Wake up. Shower. Put on clothes. Say good morning. Go to school.

You're so blank, Kathryn. Why are you so calm, Kathryn? Please, show some emotion, Kathryn!

I think they would prefer a tantrum, a break down, a frenzied attempt to run away. Something to show that I'm still here. That I still exist. That my head hasn't hollowed out.

I don't care.

I don't have friends.

I never had friends.

I had leeches who kissed my ass in order to suction off some of my public reverence.

I had horny boys who would do anything to touch me.

I had followers and underlings and selfish liars.

I had Sebastian.

I never had friends.

People keep expecting things of me.

They find it odd that I haven't visited his grave.

It's a piece of stone on top of a pile of decay. I do not understand why they keep insisting this is him. Why they keep insisting I 'visit' him. He is dead and gone and you can't visit someone who isn't there.

That pile of broken matter is not Sebastian.

And even in all my coldness, I will not accept that he is still around, lingering around like a watchful spirit. If there is justice in the world, he will be freed from a world he found so mundane. If there is justice, he would have had his last laugh by leaving me isolated, living, and desperately numbingly unpresent.

They see through me because I have withered away.

I stopped eating completely for a while. Not consciously. I simply stopped feeling the hunger, realizing the need. They dragged me to the hospital to be tested and such but found nothing wrong. I was healthy. They ushered in a psychologist. I said all the right things with all the right notes of emotion and they had nothing left to do but to send me home, citing grief as the cause for my disposition.

I don't cry myself to sleep daily.

I don't wake up and cut my arms.

I don't wish for death and internally mourn the prospect of another day.

I am not suicidal.

But neither am I exactly _okay_

I simply don't care.

Like I said, I'm withering away.

I don't need counselling. I don't need space. I don't need any of the empty words these strangers are giving me.

How do you make it better?

I still fuck, I still function, I still achieve my flawless grades.

Does it matter to the world that my brain is shutting down from lack of stimulation?

Without him, I can't very well make any thing interesting happen in this posh little glass bowl of ours.

I distantly find amusement from the clear panic stemming from those around me. Why is she acting like this?

There is no one to grab on to me.

There is no one to anchor me down.

There is no one to stop me from fading away completely.

I'm disappearing.

Will anyone care?

Unlikely. I don't care about anyone so why should they for me? And if they do care, since I do not care for them, would I even care that they care?

This is how I spend my days. Idly running thoughts distracting me from the trivialities such as eating and coming for air when swimming.

That did actually happen the other day. Went swimming. Thought it unusually stimulating to sit at the bottom of the pool and watch the water swish. Thought it rather lulling to hear nothing; a cushion of fluid softening the harshness of the surface.

And then some lifeguard type was ripping me away from the cocoon. Yelling something inaudible. The light stunned through the dulled comfort of the water. The cold air chased away what warmth I had been attempting to be engulfed by.

Suffice it to say, I was not very appreciative at the rescue.

They thought I was trying to kill myself.

The lifeguard type kept eyeing me so oddly. He so clearly needed the feeling that he had in fact saved my life and done something significant for once instead of merely wasting away his hours watching rich saggy idiots float. I screwed him. Probably the best fuck he'll ever get, which is quite pathetic for him considering I mainly stuck to Missionary.

I wasn't trying to die.

I just forgot to breathe.

xXx

_He tried to kill me._

We were scuba diving.

Halfway through, he ripped off my mask and dragged it with him as he quickly swam away.

We were 70 feet under water and he had just stolen my oxygen source.

The act in itself obviously shocked me. This was our first 'family' vacation and we were fairly antagonistic towards each other, but surely, _surely_ he wouldn't be as brash and unfeeling as to make a real attempt at my life.

My mind froze for a moment. But because this is me we are speaking of, panic didn't overwhelm me. I closed my eyes and reopened them against the sting of the water. Calmly, I looked upwards and knew that I would choke on water and drown if I made a go for the surface- not enough time when dealing with my now nonexistent air supply.

I could just let myself die, but no…that couldn't have been his purpose. He wouldn't just abruptly decide to pull off my mask and watch me die. Sebastian was a bit of a freak but he wasn't a sociopathic creeper.

What did he want from this? What did he hope to learn about me, or what action did he desire to see?

My first thought was to yank off his mask in turn. I didn't.

Air was running out. Seconds left. He showed no signs of relinquishing his hold on my mask. Nothing in his form revealed that he had seen what he had wanted to see.

At this point, I decided he was simply insane and this exercise had no point at all. Not everything he did had a purpose. Sometimes he just got bored and decided I was the most interesting thing to amuse him.

So seeing me about to suffocate would amuse him.

My logic and rationality short circuited. I was about to die and suddenly the surge of panic I had discarded with earlier attacked me forcefully. I was about to die.

I reached out underwater for his arm, latching onto it desperately as the only thing nearby that seemed clutchable and hopeful. He looked at me and my grip. Something in me decided I wouldn't grovel for my life and I released my hold, opting to make the futile attempt to swim to the surface. I knew I'd probably pass out before even reaching half way to the top.

My lungs were exploding. Black dots and such, as you know.

Couldn't breathe. Wanted to breathe. Didn't _want_ to die now.

Two strong hands stopped my ascent from behind. He really did want to kill me, didn't he?

I kicked out vengefully and connected with his chest, my hand slapping the side of his head.

He forced me to stop moving and gave me his mask, connecting it for me and making me breathe deeply.

I blacked out regardless. I somewhat recall the vision of his arms around and under me, lifting us both back to the boat; the pressure of the mask encircling my mouth.

Back at the surface, I fell out of his arms unceremoniously, hacking madly and altogether very disgruntled. His hair was dripping and soggy and the curls stuck against his scalp; water droplets slipping against me as he leaned over my frame. His eyes were clear and serious, the eyebrows etched in a frown of concern as I still struggled to breathe. He pressed the mask against me again, forcing my air intake until I recovered enough to throw it off.

"Shitfucker!" I hissed.

Sebastian smirked, wickedly amused and the brows lifted up playfully. His eyes were still dead serious but he was taking entirely too much pleasure from seeing me seconds away from dying.

"Oh, Kathryn." He laughed.

I snatched a fistful of hair and kneed him hard before pushing myself up and away from him.

"You crazy motherfucking freak! Stay the hell away from me!" I demanded angrily. "Murderous, unstable…"

"Come now. Do you really think I was trying to kill you?"

"You tried to drown me; I think that certainly qualifies as a murder attempt."

"I was making a point."

"Proving you're psychotic and scary and should be locked away from all human contact?"

"Proving you're so ridiculously, inanely proud that you'd rather, literally, die then ask for help or admit you need it. Or maybe that's just your disdain for me showing through." He grinned. "You needed air. I had air. You chose to swim away with the knowledge that there'd be no way in hell you'd make it instead of, I don't know, reaching to me?"

"You took away my air to begin with- how was I to know you'd be so strange as to actually give it back after taking it?"

"I was your only shot at surviving and you didn't take it."

"You tried to kill me."

"Only so I could save you."

I blinked at him. "What the fuck?"

"You're not the smartest, most competent person to walk this earth. Just a wake-up call. You needed me down there and you will need me again and again and again. So stop treating me like your inferior when we both know I am an equal and I can easily kill you if given the chance. I'm not weak and you shouldn't underestimate me."

"I stick to my conviction that you're a crazy motherfucker."

"Not any crazier than you, stupid arrogant sister."

"I'm not going anywhere with you again."

"Oh but you owe me now. I saved your life."

"YOU were the one who put my life in a position that needed saving!"

"No, you were always in need of saving. But you're just too damn stubborn to admit you need it. Today was a metaphor, if you will."

"How can I even begin to trust you now?"

"You and I both know you were never going to trust me. At least now you'll respect me."

"For being a psycho."

"For having the balls to call you on your shit and shoot you down a peg. And who knows, maybe now you'll see that I am sufficiently capable of saving you again if need be. At least now you see I can clean up my messes."

"I could easily have died."

"Kathryn, I wouldn't have let you die." He rolled his eyes and stood up to peel off his wet suit, leaving me alone on the deck.

And Jesus damn him because I smiled just then. That moment did prove to me that there was more to the hot blonde than a sexy body and pouty lips. And I knew I had a new confidante.

Odd isn't it that I only started trusting him after he showed himself to be utterly untrustworthy and unpredictable?

He interested me.

Greatly.

Sometimes you have to die to be reborn.

And sometimes someone has to nearly kill you just to save your life.

I didn't let anyone in before that day.

I guess he did save my life.

By depriving me of air, he gave me his and forced me to rely on him.

Sebastian was insane, but I was twisted and corrupt. At least we'd be evenly matched.

Appearing suddenly back in my line of vision, Sebastian's half naked self crouched over me, wet suit off and trunks on.

"You going to bitch and sulk in your little corner all day?"

"What if it had gone wrong and I had just died down there?"

Could I call what I had been doing before I met him 'living'?

"Then baby, I can say with complete sincerity that I would have truly been sorry." He shrugged, his eyes meeting mine.

"Sorry?" I snorted.

"It was worth the risk."

"Just to see what I would do, it was worth the risk? I hope you die painfully and before me so I can be alive to mock you when it happens, you prick."

"You can't tell me you don't feel infinitely more alive now."

"You can't tell me you actually expect me to like you after that."

"You can't tell me you would've liked me had I been another one of those brainless dolts who merely fawns over you?"

"Freak."

He smirked darkly and leaned over me again. "Now now, Kathryn. You haven't said thank you yet."

His gaze was piercing and I let a slow smile spread across my features. Lazily, I leaned forward and tipped his head towards mine, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, brother."

With that, I kicked him back into the water and propelled the boat away, leaving him to tread water for a good hour before teasing him by allowing the boat to drift within swimming distance only to fire off again half a dozen times. An hour and a half later, his legs caved out from under him as he collapsed onto the boat I so graciously pulled beside him.

His skin was almost blue and he looked like death and borderline hypothermic, but I patted him on the head condescendingly and said, "Now say thank you. I saved you, didn't I?"

Sebastian muttered 'bitch' through his shivering lips and resentfully wrapped himself with my proffered blanket, plunking downstairs where there was heat.

Smiling pleasantly, I ordered the captain (who certainly thought we were dangerously unstable but loved his pay cheque too much to do more than feebly question) to steer back to port. Meanwhile, I laid myself out on a towel to tan under the sun.

A distinctive 'crazy motherfucking bitch' floated its way to my ears from the open door.

The grin on my face widened and I closed my eyes.

"You too, stepbrother."

xXx

_Teach me to breathe again, Sebastian…_

_xXx_

Good morning day  
Sorry I'm not there  
But all my favourite friends  
Vanished in the air  
It's hard to fly when you can't even run  
Once I had the world, but now I've got no one

xXx

* * *

**AN:** Yes I've finally returned to update something for CI :P. I was feeling particularly crappy today and the angst fuelled this. Thanks for reviewing ) Yes there is (clearly) a chap 3 and it will go on further, flashbacks from before the film and also events afterwards 


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